


Every Inch A Queen

by reynabeth



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: I tried my best, Lbr i probably won't ever update lmao, Multi, Multichapter, Victorian!AU, percabeth, platonic percabeth, reynabeth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynabeth/pseuds/reynabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Frederick dies suddenly - so suddenly, indeed, that his only successor is eighteen-year-old Annabeth Chase. New to the world of ruling, Annabeth is terrified of slipping up and sending the country spiralling to its ruins.</p><p>On top of that, the pressure for her to marry is crushing her. Handsome Percy Jackson seems like the obvious choice - charming, funny, and kind. But Annabeth can't help but feel intrigued by her maid, Reyna.</p><p>Maybe it would be easier to make her choice if she didn't have to deal with multiple murder plots, ghosts, and her mother, on top of everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can Be His Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> i was watching victoria and lord m said 'every inch a queen' and i was like cool fic title OH MY GOD so that's where i got title & inspiration from  
> the summary sounds like a cheesy romance novel sorry

“Princess, your father is dead.”

All the blood in Annabeth's body seemed to drain away, leaving her bones weakened. She wobbled dangerously, clutching the arm of the chair to steady herself. “I'm sorry?”

The messenger, already kneeling, bowed his head even more. Annabeth could practically hear his neck cracking, and she winced. “Your father, Your Royal Highness, has passed away. He was asking for you before he died. We would that you come to - to bid him goodbye.”

“Indeed,” Annabeth murmured. “I shall make to his chambers at once.”

She stood, gathering her skirts, and began to make her way towards the door. Passing the messenger, she stopped. “Tell me,” she said, with some difficulty, “was he in pain?”

“Oh - no, ma'am, I don't think so.” The messenger looked surprised. 

Annabeth nodded courteously, and then turned and walked away.

At her father's chamber, she paused at the doorway. She could just see inside: gilded furniture glinting gold, royal drapes and silks, rich, elegant colours, and one flickering candle. 

As she watched, the candle extinguished itself with a puff of smoke.

One of the physicians looked around. “Ah, Princess,” he said sombrely. “I take it you've come to see your father.”

“Is it true? Is he really-”

“I’m so sorry, Princess.” 

One tear trickled down Annabeth's cheek, burning a path into her skin. She stepped forward, into the room, and there he was.

King Frederick looked much smaller than usual. His face was shrunken and his skin looked waxy and pale. Annabeth, stifling a sob, touched one of his hands. The same hand that had whirled her up into the air as a baby. The same hand that had rested on her shoulder, guiding her forwards through crowds. The same hand that had penned his letters, and his documents, and-

“Who is to be king now?” Annabeth asked, turning away from the shadow of her father.

“Well, that is the thing,” the physician said uncomfortably. “Your father had no brothers, and his father was an only child too. And you are King Frederick's sole heir, so the crown should rightfully be passed to - to you.”

“To me?” Annabeth gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Yes, but you do not need to rule - you can be queen only by name, if you wish -”

“Oh, no,” Annabeth said. “Queen Annabeth Chase sounds most splendid, don't you think?”

She looked back, just once. “Goodbye, Father,” she whispered, and then, in a rustle of skirts, she was gone.

\---

Annabeth went where she always went if she had to think: the maze. The maze was set behind the palace, a tumble of lush green hedges and gravel and lazy buzzing bumblebees and the heady scent of flowers.

Ladies weren't supposed to go in the maze. It would probably upset their 'delicate constitution’, thought Annabeth gloomily. There was no way the men of the country would be happy with a woman in power.

She reached the centre of the maze and sank down onto the bench. Burying her head in her hands, she took some deep breaths, listened to the birdsong, and let the puzzle pieces of the day’s events fall into place in her head.

Her father was gone. She couldn't quite get over that.

And she was going to be queen. That, she liked.

When I'm queen, I shan't cry anymore, she decided, so I might as well let it all out now.

It took less than a millisecond to remove the mental barriers and let the tears flow. She shook with sobs, choking on the tears.

Finally, when the crying had reached the ugly stage, when she was coughing and hiccuping instead of actually crying, she looked up.

Just as she lifted her head, she heard footsteps crunching on gravel, and a man walked in. He was attractive, Annabeth supposed - dark hair, green eyes, broad shoulders - she was sure she recognised him.

“Oh!” he said, evidently as surprised to see her as she was to see him. “Princess, I'm sorry, I was just - gracious, are you alright?”

Annabeth wiped the last tears from her cheeks. “Yes, I am fine, thank you for asking, Sir - uh…”

“Jackson,” the man said. “Sir Jackson. But my friends call me Percy.”

“Are we friends?”

“If you'd like,” he said, quite charmingly.

“I would. Very much so. In truth, Sir Jackson, I am rather in need of a friend around here.”

“Why so, Princess?”

“I suppose, being a noble, you must have heard of my father's death.” Annabeth tried to keep a cool, collected expression on her face as she spoke.

“Indeed. I did not want to say anything, because-”

“Do not concern yourself with that. The matter is that I am my father’s sole heir. No one else can take the throne.”

“Why, is that good, or bad?” Sir Jackson asked.

“Good. No, bad. No - to be quite frank with you, Sir, I don't have the foggiest.”

Sir Jackson - Percy - laughed, a nice, genuine, rich laugh, that seemed to come from deep down in his belly, and work its way up to his mouth. “Queen Annabeth does have a lovely ring to it.”

“That it does.” Annabeth sighed, propping her head on her hand, gazing at her reflection in the small ornamental pool. “Perhaps I should take the crown. To honour my father. I can be his legacy.”

“Indeed, you can, Princess, and a great queen you would be.”

“Thank you, Sir. Percy. You have been a great help to me. Would you care to escort me back to the palace?”

Gallantly, Percy offered his arm, and Annabeth rose from the bench and took it. Together, they walked sedately back to the house, footsteps crunching on the gravel, in time to the steady beat of Annabeth's heart.

At Annabeth's chamber, Percy stepped away. “Are you quite alright now, Princess?”

“Please,” Annabeth said, smiling, “call me Annabeth.”

Percy saluted her, a tip of the hat with two fingers, and then he turned and marched away, whistling as he went. Annabeth watched him to the end of the corridor, and then turned and entered her room.

Inside, a maid was carefully sweeping the floor. She started when she saw Annabeth. “Sorry,” she said, “I'll just-”

As much as Annabeth wanted to reply, she didn't think she could. The maid had ever-so-thick dark hair, tied in two braids and pinned up, and smooth brown skin. 

“Oh,” said Annabeth. “Oh. What's your name, pray?”

“Reyna, ma'am,” the maid said nervously. “I'm Reyna. I’m new here.”

“Reyna.” The name rolled around Annabeth's mouth. It tasted finer than the richest cocoa, and sweeter than sugar. “That's perfect. Thank you.”


	2. Someone To Confide In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth is pretty sure she's falling in love. With somebody. Just don't tell her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who is annabeth falling in love with???? i can't say i don't even know myself sorry

“Oh, hello, Mother.” Annabeth stood, allowing Athena to sail gracefully past her and into the room.

Annabeth's mother had dark hair, pinned up around her face, and barely a wrinkle lined her pale face, like she had been carved from a block of stone - and her eyes, hard as steel, seemed to look right through Annabeth and out the other side.

“Anna, dear, I have come to talk with you,” Athena said, sitting down on a chair, and arranging her skirts.

“Talk at me, more like,” Annabeth muttered sourly. “Mother, what is it that you want from me?”

“Oh, it's nothing bad,” Athena said, which didn't really reassure Annabeth much. “I just wanted to remind you to choose your ladies-in-waiting. You don't want to leave it too late!”

Annabeth stood up. “Do not worry, Mother, I'll choose soon. Now, how about you-”

Athena batted away Annabeth's arm. “I will not be leaving this room until you have decided on some suitable candidates.”

“Well, if you're not leaving, I will,” said Annabeth, making to open the door - but Athena's hand shot out, grasping her wrist in a grip of iron. 

“Don't you dare, young lady.”

“Fine, Mother,” Annabeth sighed. “Who are your ‘potential candidates’?”

“Well, I rather think Hazel - you know Hazel, the foreign girl?”

“Mother. You can't call someone ‘foreign’.”

“Annabeth!” Athena snapped. “Focus, please.”

“Alright.” Annabeth slumped down into a chair. “Yes, I know Hazel. Yes, she's nice. Yes, she can go on the list. So can all the others.”

“Here, let me write them down.” Athena held out a sheet of paper - with the names already written on.

“Mother, that's not writing them down, that's making my choice for me. Now, could you please leave? I'm very busy.” Annabeth set the list down on her desk and ushered her mother out.

When the door finally closed behind Athena, Annabeth sighed with relief and sat down heavily. She examined her mother's list, curling her lip in distaste - although actually, Athena had made some good choices. Still, there was something she had to do first.

When she was still a princess, Annabeth had often gone down to the servant’s part of the house. She'd been a regular fixture in the kitchens, just sitting and watching.

Of course, she couldn't do that now she was queen. Could she?

She would have to get away with it one last time, because there was something she needed to ask the head housekeeper, Miss Beauregard. 

Walking down the servant's stairs was like walking into a whole new world. It was so hot - and so noisy! Annabeth imagined that would be what India, or somewhere just as exotic, would be like. 

The kitchens were full of billowing clouds of steam and people rushing around and the smell of dinner cooking. Annabeth inhaled deeply, and then sighed in appreciation. It was so nice to be back there.

A maid saw her, and gasped. “Miss!” the girl cried. “I'm so sorry, let me just-”

Cook looked over her shoulder, and her eyes landed on Annabeth. “Why, Annabeth!” the woman cried, bustling over. “I haven't seen you in so long! You have grown.”

“Cook, is Miss Beauregard in here? I need to see her.”

“Yes, indeed, she's right over there.” 

Miss Beauregard was young for a housekeeper, with her smooth skin and long dark hair twisted up under her cap. “Your Majesty,” she said, ever so politely. “Can I help you?”

“Miss Beauregard,” Annabeth said, nodding her head formally. “May I enquire - is there a maid named Reyna down here?”

“Indeed there is, Your Majesty. Why do you ask?”

“I wish her to be one of my ladies-in-waiting,” Annabeth said.

“But, Your Majesty - she's only a chambermaid,” Miss Beauregard frowned. “Would that really be appropriate?”

“Could I see her, please?”

“I - of course.” The housekeeper turned, and over her shoulder, shouted Reyna's name. There was a slight scuffle, and then a girl appeared beside Miss Beauregard.

Annabeth's heart leapt at the sight of Reyna - dark hair coming loose from beneath her cap, cheeks flushed, clothes rumpled. “You wanted me, Miss?” Reyna said.

“Actually, I did,” Annabeth said. Turning, Reyna jumped. 

“Oh - Your Majesty - I -”

“Let's cut to the chase,” Annabeth said briskly. “I'd like you to be one of my ladies-in-waiting. Are you willing to take the offer?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Reyna, curtsying. “It would be a great honour.”

“Good. Come with me.”

\---

Annabeth closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Reyna's hands working through her hair. “Could you do my hair like yours?” she asked, without opening her eyes.

“Like mine, ma'am?” Reyna said.

“In the two braids,” Annabeth said. “Please.”

“Of course, ma'am.” A pause. “So, are you to hold a coronation ball?”

“I hope so,” Annabeth said, opening her eyes, and examining her reflection. “What coronation would be complete without a ball?”

“It sounds grand, ma'am.”

“Call me Annabeth.” In the mirror, Annabeth saw Reyna's head snap up, shocked, and then she lowered her eyes again. 

“Yes, ma'am - I mean, yes, Annabeth.” 

Annabeth smiled, a long, slow, lazy smile. Reyna tied off her braids, and then stepped back. “Reyna, please accompany me on a walk,” Annabeth said.

They were just leaving when a knock sounded at the door. Annabeth turned, surprised, and then called out: “Come in!”

The door opened and Percy Jackson stepped in, shifting awkwardly. Upon seeing Annabeth and Reyna dressed to go out, his face fell endearingly. “I'm sorry if I'm interrupting, I was just -”

Annabeth turned to Reyna, who gave her an encouraging smile. “Go on, Miss,” she said. “I'll clean up in here.”

Annabeth nodded, biting her lip, and then turned back to Percy, who offered his arm with a brilliant smile. She took it, and together they left Annabeth's room.

“Where do you feel like going today, Your Majesty?” Percy teased.

Annabeth laughed. “How does the lake sound? Then I can push you in if you get too annoying.”

Percy laughed, too. “I'm afraid you're out of luck this time - I'm quite an apt swimmer.”

“Oh, really?” Annabeth asked, fascinated. “Where did you learn?”

“Oh, I stayed with family by the sea when I was a child,” he said, smiling fondly. “I was out on the beach every day, no matter the weather.”

Annabeth decided to take a chance. “Sir Jackson, if you don't mind me asking - how old are you?”

“Why, I'm twenty-three next month.”

Annabeth pondered this for a few moments. He was the perfect age for a suitor - whilst she was not physically attracted to him, he was charming, funny, and kind, and would be the perfect companion. No ring on his finger, either - unless he was courting another woman, but who would say no to the queen? Annabeth was fairly certain he would be a perfect husband.

“What's on your mind, ma'am?” he asked.

“Please, call me Annabeth,” Annabeth responded automatically. “And - I don't know - just nervous about my coronation.”

“Don't worry about a thing,” Percy said comfortingly. “You'll do fine, I know you will.”

“It's not that,” Annabeth sighed. “I'm just afraid that the rumours are right: I'm not a good enough queen, I'm too young and flighty to rule, I'll be out by Christmas - oh, you get the idea.”

Percy frowned. “Absolutely not. You'd be a perfect queen, and I have a feeling you'll rule for a long time. As for the rest - age is just a number, and you're the complete opposite of flighty. I don't know where they got that from.”

That was the final sentence that sealed the deal: Percy would be an ideal husband, and an ideal best friend. That would take the pressure to marry off her back easily, and she'd have someone to confide in, who could and would help her with anything.

Two birds with one stone. Right?

Suddenly, Annabeth caught sight of another two figures walking beside the lake. She squinted, trying to make them out - and then one of the women turned her face into Annabeth's line of vision. Annabeth stiffened.

“Oh, no,” she muttered. “It's my mother.”

Percy looked down at her. “We can turn back, if you'd like.”

“Too late now,” Annabeth said, clenching her jaw and straightening her spine. “Just get past as quickly as possible.”

Annabeth had - quite unfortunately - forgotten that Athena took a walk around the lake every afternoon. It was a nice place to walk - the lake shone like a mirror in the sunlight, birds sang, and gravel crunched pleasantly beneath your feet - but not so nice if you were about to pass your mother, holding the arm of a potential suitor.

Athena's head perked up when she saw Annabeth, and she and whoever was with her sped up a little. 

“Mother,” Annabeth said cordially, forcing a smile onto her face and nodding her head. Her grip tightened on Percy's arm and, seemingly getting the message, he started to walk a little faster.

“Ah, Anna.” Athena reached out and took Annabeth's other arm. “And who is this with you? A suitor, perhaps?” She looked Percy up and down, examining him like she was an archeologist and he was her new specimen. 

Percy flushed. “Lady Athena - I -”

“Help,” Annabeth mouthed to Athena's companion, Lady Piper. 

Piper nodded and turned to Athena. “Lady Athena, I hear the rose garden is very beautiful at this time of year. Would you care to visit it with me?”

Reluctantly, Athena let go of Annabeth's arm. “Indeed I would,” she said slowly, not taking her eyes off Percy and Annabeth.

“Go,” Annabeth muttered urgently, and Percy hurried away, Annabeth trotting behind him. 

“Are we safe?” he asked, after a minute or two of tense silence. 

Annabeth looked around. She could see her mother in the distance, but well out of earshot; she relaxed her shoulders. “We're safe.”

They walked on a bit, and then Annabeth spoke again. “Percy, I really enjoy spending time with you…”

“Yes?” The tips of Percy's ears went pink. Probably the cold breeze, Annabeth thought.

“I was wondering if you should like to come riding with me some time?” 

“Oh!” Was it Annabeth's imagination, or did he look disappointed? “Yes, I'd love that.”

“Oh, good.”

“Would your mother approve, though?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Of you and me being - alone.”

“Oh, I don't care a jot what she thinks,” Annabeth said dismissively. “And we wouldn't be alone. We'd have the horses!”

Percy laughed. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your invitation. I accept most gratefully.”

\---

Back at the palace, Percy left Annabeth at her door again. She entered her room slowly, half-expecting to find Reyna in there again, but her stomach swooped with disappointment upon seeing that the room is empty.

She considered calling for Reyna but decided against it. Instead, she drew a chair up to the window, sat down, and rested her cheek against the cold glass pane.

Annabeth's room looked onto the front drive of the palace. Outside, everyone went about their day: a carriage or two occasionally rumbled up the drive, usually with a delivery; Miss Beauregard swept the front steps as she watched for miscreants; ladies and gentlemen strolled, arm in arm.

Annabeth sighed miserably. They all looked so happy…! And here she was, moping around in her room, unable even to enjoy the nice sunny day, and it was all because of her mother.

At least they didn't have to sleep in adjoining rooms anymore. Annabeth thought she would go mad if she had to endure any more time with Athena than necessary.

Maybe she should call for Reyna, she reflected. She needed someone to cheer her up. 

Her hand hovered over the bell, but she snatched it away again. Opening a draw, she looked inside.

Her doll lay there, limbs askew. Annabeth picked it up, straightening its dress.

Behind her, a familiar voice said, “A bit old to be playing with dolls, now, Annie?” 

Annabeth screamed and whirled around. Sure enough, her father stood there - his blonde hair tousled, eyes shining, suit jacket rumpled. 

“Father!” Annabeth cried, tears streaming down her face. “You're not dead!”

“Oh, I'm dead alright. Never felt better.” Her father stepped towards her. “Listen, kitten, you've got to lead them.”

“W-what?”

“You can be a good queen. I know you can. But, kitten, some people don't know that. They might offer to take over for you. If they ask, you have to say no.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“And they might - they might try to hurt you. So be very careful.” Frederick reached out and brushed a tear from Annabeth's cheek. 

“Papa, won't you stay a little longer?” 

“I can't, kitten. I love you. You know that?”

“Of course I do. I love you too.”

And then - just like that! - he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's longer are you proud


	3. Everything She Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth is seeing ghosts and stars - exposing a plot to knock you off the throne is difficult, especially when you're a week into being queen and have to deal with conflicting feelings for conflicting people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse the brevity (is that the right word? i mean the shortness) it took me three weeks to write the first two hundred words and the rest in like half an hour what is motivation

When Reyna came in two hours later, she found Annabeth slumped against the wall, staring into space. “Your Majesty? Are you quite alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“In a way, Reyna, I have,” Annabeth said, dragging a hand over her face.

“Your ladies are currently assisting with your coronation gown. Would you like to see it?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Annabeth tried to push herself upright, but her hands were shaking too much. 

“Here, miss.” Reyna held out an arm.

“It's Annabeth.” Annabeth took Reyna's arm and pulled herself up. “Thanks.”

Reyna led the way down a series of steps, and entered a large room on the right. Inside, Annabeth could smell the warm mustiness of fabric. 

Lady Hazel appeared at Annabeth's elbow, wiping sweat from the creases of her dark-brown forehead. Her hair was sticking up everywhere. “Your Majesty! Sorry, we're a bit frantic. Would you like to see your -”

But Annabeth was already pushing past Hazel. The dress was in the corner, swarmed by maids like bees to sugar. “It's pretty,” Annabeth said admiringly - because it was: a waterfall of white silk, slim to allow the cape to fit over the top. Something sparkly seemed to be traced onto the bodice; Annabeth imagined it would look nice under the candle-light.

“Oh, good,” another woman said, wringing her hands. “Would you like to try it on?”

“Oh. All right.”

Ten minutes later, Annabeth was perched on a stool with her arms straight out in front of her and a dozen pins pricking her skin. The maids hurried around her feet, altering and darning and unpicking and a lot of other technical sewing language that, quite frankly, had Annabeth feeling rather confused.

Reyna was talking to her, but there was a strange buzzing noise in Annabeth's ears. She couldn't stop thinking about her father - or his ghost, at least - and what he had said.

They might try to hurt you.

You've got to lead them.

You can be a good queen.

I can, Annabeth thought. I can be a good queen. In two days time, she'd be walking up the aisle to her crown with a cape heavy on her shoulders and the orb and sceptre balanced in her hands, and then the people would look to her, and she would have to look back at them and give it everything she had.

Being a queen was going to be difficult.

\---

Her father appeared to her again that night.

She woke up to a rustling noise in her chamber; when she opened her eyes, she saw his figure, illuminated by the moonlight. This time, he looked less friendly, and more desperate, even angry.

“Father?” Annabeth asked, not about to let him get away that easily this time. “Father, I must know: how are you here? What do you want?”

“Annabeth.” Frederick Chase moved closer to her bed, his footsteps soundless. “Annabeth, they don't want you. They're going to hurt you. You have to stop them.” His voice sounded like it was coming from a great distance.

“Who, Papa? Who wants to hurt me?”

“Find them,” her father insisted. “Find them...don't forget...your mother…”

“What about my mother? Father, I don't understand! Father?”

Frederick reached out one hand towards her. Suddenly scared, Annabeth scrabbled backwards, squeezing her eyes closed as if she could make him go away by not looking at him. 

When she opened them again, he was gone.

Annabeth had always been a fast thinker, and now was no exception. Her mind raced, scrambling for any possibilities. She had to stop some people who wanted to hurt her, and were somehow connected to her mother.

Her father had always encouraged her learning, and he had once told her that when she had a problem she couldn't solve, she should put it under her pillow before she went to sleep, and when she woke up in the morning, she would know what to do.

“What is my father trying to tell me? Who wants to hurt me? How are they connected to my mother?” Annabeth whispered into the palm of her hand, and then slipped her hand under her pillow, pressing her words into the sheets.

Removing her hand, she lay back down and closed her eyes.

When her eyes opened again the next morning, she knew.

Annabeth's footsteps echoed loudly on the tile in the hallway outside Athena’s chambers. She pounded her fist against the door, ignoring the surprised glances from the guards nearby.

As soon as the door swung open, Annabeth pushed inside. “Mother,” she hissed. “Why are you willing to go to such lengths to stop me from being queen?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Athena, eyes widening innocently. 

“Oh, I think you do.” Annabeth drew herself up to her full height. “What kind of mother would try to hurt her own child to stop her from being queen?”

Athena's look of surprise lasted for only a few moments. Then her eyes narrowed. “You are too young to be the queen. You will ruin this country. What we need is someone older and wiser.”

“Someone like you, you mean,” Annabeth said, her stomach sinking as she realised. “You want to be queen, Mother.”

“Of course I do.”

“But, Mother -” Heat rushed to Annabeth's cheeks. “How could you? How could you do this to me?”

“I haven't done anything to you, yet,” Athena pointed out.

“But you were planning to, weren't you? What were you going to do - bribe Cook to slip a little arsenic in my Sunday roast? Order Sir Jason to arrange a terrible carriage accident?”

“Nothing like that!” Athena cried, her face turning blotchy. “I just wanted to - to scare you off. That's all.”

“Oh, really,” Annabeth said with no inflection. “Good-bye, Mother. I shall see you at dinner.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out, leaving Athena standing there silently.

Outside, she wasn't exactly looking where she was going. Anger clouded her vision and hot, furious tears burned at the back of her eyes.

All of a sudden, she slammed into a muscled, firm chest. Stumbling backwards, she looked upwards - and straight into the sea-green eyes of Percy Jackson.

“Annabeth!” Percy touched her elbow, steadying her. “What on earth is the matter?”

“I just found out my mother was plotting to hurt me and kick me off the throne so she could be queen,” Annabeth spat. “My own mother. Can you believe it?”

“Oh, no, Annabeth,” Percy said, sounding almost breathless. “That is - I have some power, perhaps I can do something? If I could help in any way…”

“Thank you, Percy, but it is fine, really.” Annabeth wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I can sort it out myself.”

“Well, if you're sure,” Percy said, looking concerned. “Listen, Annabeth, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. I don't suppose you would mind walking with me a way?”

“I suppose not,” Annabeth agreed, taking Percy's arm and setting off down the corridor. “What did you want to talk to me about, Percy?”

“I - it's about us.” Percy sounded a little disconcerted, and Annabeth turned to him, confused.

“Us, Percy?”

“Yes, well, as queen, I imagine you should want to marry, and, I suppose, you should - you - I -” His cheeks turned bright red, and he didn't meet her eyes.

“Oh! Oh, Percy, I -” 

Annabeth knew what he was going to say, and her insides twisted into knots. She could accept his offer of companionship, even if she didn't really want it, or she could reject him and hurt him.

She was saved from responding by Lady Hazel, coming around the corner. “Oh, Your Majesty,” Hazel said, ducking her head. “We have finished your coronation gown, if you would care to see it.”

“Why, I think I should.” Annabeth stepped back from Percy, smiling a goodbye. “Do take care, Sir Jackson.”

“And you, Your Majesty.” He lifted a hand, returning her smile. Her stomach jumped a little at the sight of it, even though she had been sure she hadn't felt for him in that way.

Feeling thoroughly confused, Annabeth turned away, following Hazel down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just procrastinating writing the coronation can you tell


	4. A Song Of Ascents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God save the Queen! Whether she or her mother like it or not, Annabeth is now a monarch. And she doesn't care whether or not Perseus Jackson was at the coronation. She doesn't care at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERY INCH A QUEEN IS NOT ABANDONED!!! I REPEAT EVERY INCH A QUEEN IS NOT ABANDONED!!! this chapter is Bad anyway it's just so short

Annabeth woke to a dull, sick feeling in her limbs. Today was the day of her coronation, the day she would take the crown and the throne and become the queen.

Oh, she was dreading it.

Reyna entered, closing the door softly behind her. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” she said, bobbing her head. “I have come to dress you for the ceremony.” 

“Oh, Reyna…!” Annabeth said, anguished. “Must I?”

“Well, you can hardly not go through with it, can you? Now, up you get.” 

Reyna helped Annabeth into a simple white gown, free of elaborate decorations and fine details. Over the top, Annabeth wore a heavy cape-like robe, as crimson as spilt blood. Her hair was pinned up on top of her head, the pins prickling her scalp, and rich jewelry seemed to cover every inch of bare skin.

“You're ready, Miss,” Reyna said. Annabeth turned, looking into Reyna's eyes for a moment too long. She sighed.

“I suppose I am.” 

\---

From outside the abbey, Annabeth could hear the opening numbers of Palm 122, a song of ascents. She took a deep breath, and then the doors were flung open and she was pushed backwards by the volume and size of the crowd.

Walking down the central aisle, dizziness swept over Annabeth, the faces in the pews blurring in the corners of her eyes. Another huge red robe had been draped over her shoulders, and it was so heavy, she could barely keep her balance.

The Archbishop of Canterbury was waiting for her at the end of the aisle. As she took her first seat on the Chair of Estate, he smiled at her with his eyes, and she felt a little better.

Some more men moved to the other sides of the abbey, and the Archbishop turned to the congregation. “I here present unto you Annabeth Chase, your undoubted Queen,” he began, spreading his hands. Annabeth's ears were ringing: the oaths were next, the part she was most worried about.

“Will you solemnly promise,” the Archbishop said to her, “and swear to govern the peoples of this country, according to their respective laws and customs?”

Annabeth wasn't sure if she was still breathing. “I… solemnly promise to do so.”

“Will you, to your power, allow law and justice to be executed in all your decisions?”

Annabeth thought of her mother. Athena would have difficulty swearing to this, she thought, and nearly laughed. “I will.”

“Will you, to the utmost of your power…” The Archbishop started reciting the longest vow, and Annabeth's mind drifted to Percy, and then - strangely - to Reyna, to the point where she almost didn't realise the Archbishop had finished.

Starting, she stuttered out, “All this I… I promise to do. The things which I have promised, I will perform and keep. So help me, God.” She could hardly see for relief - the hardest part was over, now.

She was allowed a short rest as an anthem was sung, and then the Archbishop prepared for the anointing. The horrible blood robe was removed, and she was led to the coronation chair. 

For this part of the service, Annabeth had to be hidden from the peoples’ eyes, so a heavy gold cloth was held in front of her. Behind it, a tall man poured oil into a pot using a golden spoon.

The Archbishop dabbed it against her hands, head, and heart, chanting a prayer under his breath. The oils smelt heady and dizzying, and the choir singing in front of the cloth left the whole experience feeling rather like an odd dream.

The Archbishop stepped back and Annabeth knelt on the floor as he recited a prayer, and then she took the chair again. The cloth was removed, and she began scanning the audience for Percy, but she couldn't see him.

More robes and jewelry were layered over her, but her head was buzzing so much she hardly noticed. She was to be presented with the crown jewels, and then crowned, and then she could take the throne before leaving. It was nearly over.

The Sword of State was heavy, the golden sceptre heavier, and the orb a little lighter. Finally, the Archbishop began to say a prayer. He lifted the golden, gem-encrusted crown from the alter and gently, almost reverently, placed it on her head.

It was slightly too big. 

“God save the Queen!” cried the congregation, and again, and again. Celebrations broke out: the trumpets squealed a fanfare and all over the city, Annabeth heard the church bells begin to ring.

More prayers were said, and then Annabeth stood, feeling slightly worried that the jewels were all going to fall down onto the floor. Sweat trickled down her back from the heat of the robes and the pressure of the eyes on her, and then she was in front of the throne and this was it, this was the culminating moment. She was the Queen. 

The Archbishop, and several other similar-looking men, all paid homage, and then the Clergy, and then Athena was in front of her. An irritated, forced half-smile twisted her mother's face as she spoke the words and curtsied.

Finally - finally! - the heavy jewels were taken from her and she rose, walking steadily back down the aisle, keeping her eyes on the stone just above the abbey door. 

She entered the chapel and the regalia was laid on the alter. She was even able to take off the hideous robes, and another purple one was wrapped around her. 

With the crown on her head and the orb and sceptre in her hands, with the choir singing and the people in the streets cheering, with the bells ringing and her hands shaking, she was at last leading the way out of the chapel and away.

The national anthem sounded behind her, strong and clear and true, she walked on a carpet of the words out of the abbey and into the sunlight. She had entered a princess and now here she was, leaving, a queen. 

God save the Queen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u might as well leave a comment it's not like ill update for another like 3 months anyway


	5. Fire and Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth is relieved that her coronation is finally over. But her head is hurting and so is her throat, and her father still won't accompany her to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao this is SO BAD!!!! its almost laughable but i am determined to Finish this Thing so here goes

Annabeth was starting to get rather tired of seeing her father's ghost in the corner of her room. He had one chair he liked to sit on, and Annabeth would often come back from meetings and the like to find him there.

This was one of those days.

She dismissed Reyna at the doorway and stumbled into her room, closing the door behind her. Laying down on her bed, she turned to look at her father's chair.

He hovered there, his mouth twitching slightly into an apologetic smile. “I had to come and congratulate you, kitten.”

“On what? I must have looked awful.” Annabeth covered her face with her hands. 

“Not at all!” he said, surprised. “I thought you were simply marvellous.”

“I could barely see,” Annabeth groaned. “I probably seemed terrified. Which I was.”

“Oh, quite the opposite,” Frederick assured her. “You seemed very regal, very dignified. Exactly what a queen needs to be. The people loved you.”

“How did you even see?”

“I can travel a short way outside the palace,” he said. “No one else can see me but you.”

“Really?” Annabeth sat up, suddenly alert. “Would you come with me to dinner? I couldn't stand it there alone!”

Frederick hesitated. “I don't know, kitten. It's a little against the rules…”

“Oh, please?” The idea of having her father with her at one of the awful dinners filled Annabeth with a slow rush of relief. 

Suddenly he flickered, like a candle flame about to be extinguished. “I have to go,” he said, his voice sounding like he was underwater.

“No, please! I don't want to be by myself -” Too late. He was gone.

Annabeth wanted to cry. She could feel the tears rising up in her throat, but all she could manage was an ugly gasping sound. Burying her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and waited for the ridiculous sadness to end.

Reyna found her like that several hours later. “Your Majesty?” she said, her voice cautious, and Annabeth looked up. “It's time for dinner.”

“I rather think I won't be able to make it,” Annabeth croaked. Her throat was hurting, and so was her head, and Reyna's voice seemed to be coming from a long way off.

“Annabeth?” Reyna was by her side in an instant, pressing the back of her hand against Annabeth's sweaty forehead. “My goodness, you’re burning up!” She jumped back.

Annabeth tried to say something, but her mouth felt like it was stuck shut. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she raised her eyes to Reyna.

And then everything went black.

The next thing she knew was the dark. She was standing in an empty space, devoid of colour and light. She looked down and could barely see her body through the wisps of darkness.

“Is this how it feels to be dead?” she said aloud, and her voice stopped short a few yards from her mouth, falling flat and drying away. 

She waited in silence. Hours passed, although perhaps it was minutes (it was difficult to tell time when one could hardly see one’s own fingertips, let alone any surroundings), and yet she didn't feel bored. She didn't feel anything, really.

After an indeterminable length of time, she heard a voice, right by her shoulder. “Annabeth,” it whispered.

Annabeth whirled around. “Who's there?” 

“Annabeth,” said another voice behind her. Annabeth spun round, but there was nothing there. More voice joined the chorus.

Annabeth ANNABETHanna BETH annabeth CHASE annabeannabeth CHASE ANNABETH Annabeth annabeth Annabeth chase ANNABETH CHASE -

“Leave me alone!” Annabeth shouted, covering her ears, but the voices wormed around her fingers and burrowed into her brain. She fell to her knees, and maybe she was crying out or maybe she was silent, she didn't know, she didn't know anything only the voices Annabeth Chase Annabeth Chase Annabeth Chase ANNABETH CHASE!

Then the voices stopped. Gasping for breath, almost unable to believe it, Annabeth slowly removed her hands from her eyes and lifted her head, opening her eyes. 

A bright white light cut through the darkness, so bright Annabeth winced and clutched her head. Out of the light stepped her father. 

“Papa!” Annabeth cried, jumping to her feet and staggering towards him. His cheeks were pink and his eyes shining, and he was smiling. He looked solid, real, alive.

“Annabeth, oh, Annabeth, my baby.” He wrapped his arms round her and she held onto his jacket sleeves.

“Father. Why aren't you a ghost?”

“This is a dream.” He pulled back, studying her face. “When you wake up, you might not even remember.”

She clung onto his sleeve. “Will you still visit me as a ghost?”

“I hope so.” He brushed a stray hair out of her face. “It may not be as often, though. It's getting harder and harder to stay.”

“Papa, you're fading.” Annabeth's fingers were behind to slip.

“I'm not supposed to be here. I shall see you soon - as soon as you get better.”

“Better from what? Father?” 

Her father smiled once, and then faded away. Annabeth clutched the air where he had stood. “Wait - father -”

A shock of cold air hit her, and she gasped. Everything hurt, and her head felt like it was about to explode. “Father,” she wheezed. “Wait!”

“I'm telling you, she needs a doctor!” someone was saying angrily.

“Very well,” said a harsh voice. Annabeth forced her eyes open at the sound of her mother. “Maid? Send for a royal physician at once.”

“Yes, ma'am.” 

“She's awake!” Annabeth saw Percy's face bob into her line of vision. “Annabeth, stay with us. You're going to be fine.”

“Percy,” Annabeth tried to say, but no sound came out. The darkness was creeping up around the edge of her vision, and she felt herself sink back into it.

“Annabeth, wait. Try not to close your eyes.” Percy brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, and Annabeth desperately pushed her eyes open, but she just couldn't do it. 

She closed her eyes and slipped into the smooth blackness.

Annabeth dreamt of fire and sunlight and paintings and oceans, immersing herself in the stories her unconscious mind created, not wanting to wake up. Finally, though, the last dream loosened its clutches and she soared back to awakeness. 

The first thing she felt was fresh sheets, rustling against her skin. She could smell a fresh clean scent, and her skin felt warm. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and it was a pleasant surprise to find that her head wasn't hurting anymore.

At first, she didn't know where she was, and then she recognised it as the palace infirmary. There was a window by her bed, and the curtains were open, morning sunlight spilling into the room. Birds were even singing in the trees outside: Annabeth smiled and lay back against the pillows. 

Then the door cracked open and Reyna looked inside. Upon seeing Annabeth's eyes open, she gasped. “You're awake!”

“Good morning, Reyna.” 

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Reyna peered into the corridor. “Miss Blair, quick! She's awake!”

As servants began bustling in, Annabeth gazed out of the window, buoyed by a momentary happiness. And then she remembered something which made her feel even more light and free.

She was the Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so i want to get a posting schedule but we'll see about that


	6. We're Friends, You And Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth may have recovered, but all too slowly, it would seem. She's the Queen, but even that title can't free her from her mother, who just won't stay out of Annabeth's business.  
> Still, at least she has Percy. And Reyna. Neither of whom she has feelings for, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes yes I KNOW there isn't a proper plot and it's very monotonous but GUESS WHAT i have a massive plot twist planned for two chapters time buckle up

It had been three days, and Annabeth still wasn't allowed out of the infirmary. Her fever was completely gone, and she was almost back to full strength, but she was still confined to the little room with the clean bed and sunlit walls. 

She took a seat on the big armchair, wondering idly what the newspapers were printing about her. People would probably be going insane - most likely, there would be rumours of poison and the like. Not that Annabeth hadn't considered it, but she couldn't help but think poisoning would be more gradual. 

Anyways, she felt fine in herself. A little bored, a little lonely, but ultimately not too unwell. 

The door opened and Reyna slipped inside, closing the door behind her. “I just need to change your pillow, ma’am -” she began, but Annabeth interrupted her.

“Reyna. Sit here.” She patted the chair behind her.

“Ma'am?” Reyna did as she said, gathering her skirts and sitting down. “Is everything all right?” 

“Why, yes. I'm just lonely. I wanted to talk to you.” 

“About what?” Reyna still had her maid's expression on - hands folding, looking down, eyes cast up demurely. 

“Reyna, I shan't bite your head off,” Annabeth said irritably, and then realised she probably wasn't helping herself. “I mean, we’re friends, you and me, aren't we?”

Reyna seemed to relax. “I suppose so.” 

“So, how are you?” 

Reyna looked surprised by the question, like no one asked her it often. “I - I'm alright. A little busy, with the guests and all -”

“Guests?” Annabeth demanded. Reyna's face dropped, like she'd let something slip. “What guests?”

“Well, whilst you've been ill, your mother has taken it upon herself to man the castle, and she has invited a few guests to stay,” Reyna said reluctantly.

“Who?”

“Oh, kings and queens of neighbouring countries. Quite a few princes, too - I think she may be looking for a suitor for you.”

“She may be, or she is?” 

Reyna pressed her lips together. “She is. She's narrowing them down, I think. It's very -”

Annabeth jumped to her feet, shaking with rage. “That - that -” She gave a little scream of frustration, clenching her fists. “I cannot believe it. I absolutely cannot believe it! How dare she - the cheek of it - I must stop her at once!”

Reyna jumped up too, snatching Annabeth's arm. “Oh, you mustn't! They'll all know I told you!” 

Annabeth looked at her. “I suppose I shall stay here, then,” she sighed gloomily, and Reyna seemed to shrink a little in relief. 

Reyna’s hand was still wrapped around Annabeth's arm. It felt nice, natural: her hand was warm, dry, a little rough and calloused. Annabeth realised, though she wasn't sure why, that she wanted Reyna to keep her hand there for longer.

“My father would never have done something like this,” she said. 

Reyna looked down, noticed how she still clutched Annabeth's arm, and dropped her hand like she had been burnt. “You loved him very much, may I presume?” 

“Yes, you may.” Annabeth sank back down into the chair. “I rather miss him.”

“I should think you would.” Reyna didn't seem to know what to do with her hands - she held them out, then drew them behind her back, then let them hang at her sides before settling on clasping them together in front of her middle. “My father died when I was a little younger.” 

Annabeth looked up, interest piqued. “Oh, really?” She stopped, going back on herself. “I mean - I'm dreadfully sorry.” 

“Thank you, but it's all right.” Reyna squeezed her hands together. “We weren't close.” 

“If I may ask, how…?” Annabeth trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence.

“An accident,” Reyna said, looking away. “He fell, and hit his head.” 

Annabeth reached out and took Reyna's hand, covering Reyna's fingers with her own. “I am sorry. Really.” 

No words were needed. They sat in silence for a moment, and then Reyna started and said, “Oh, Annabeth - Your Highness, I mean - Lord Jackson called. He's been desperate to see you.” 

A glow ignited inside Annabeth, brightening her whole body. “He did? He has?” 

“I could find him now, if you wish to see him?” Reyna said, seeming to draw into herself. 

“Oh, yes, please,” Annabeth said.

“If you wish.” Reyna moved to the door and pushed it open. There was the unmistakable sound of wood hitting a human body and a loud oof, and then, a second later - “Lord Jackson, were you waiting outside the door?” 

Percy's face appeared around the door. He smiled sheepishly, and Annabeth covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Oh, dear, Lord Jackson. You are in trouble.” 

Reyna frowned at her. “Lord Jackson, it is not acceptable to stand outside a queen’s chamber when she is obviously resting after being very unwell for several days. If you please -”

“But Reyna,” Percy said in such a way that Annabeth rather felt he and Reyna were closer than they looked, “you said I could see her when she felt better. I was worried sick!”

Reyna relented. “Fine, fine. But no funny business.” 

Percy stepped awkwardly into the room, removing his hat. He bowed. “Your Highness.”

“Oh, please. Since when have we used titles?” Annabeth waved him over. “Come. Tell me about what's been happening in the palace.” 

“Well, as I'm sure Reyna's told you,” Percy began, going to stand beside her, “your mother has, ah, taken the reigns of the castle.”

Annabeth grumbled. “Yes. She has. I really cannot believe it - a suitor, for me! I am the Queen, and I decide who I marry. Not her.”

“The papers have rather been having a field day with your illness, I'm afraid,” Percy continued. “To think, the printing press invented for them to gossip.” 

“Well, no matter.” Annabeth adjusted her skirts, suddenly self-conscious. “I shall make a public reveal soon enough. Then they'll know.”

“I fear they have been fueled by someone inside the palace.” 

“My mother?” Annabeth said, unsurprised.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps one of the suitors. Prince Axel of Germany is rather suspicious-looking.” 

“Oh, not the one that looks like a little rat!” Annabeth cried. Percy nodded and wriggled his nose in a mouse impression, and Annabeth couldn't help but dissolve into laughter.

“His nose really does look like that!” Percy said indignantly, which made Annabeth laugh harder.

“Oh, you are so good for me, Percy,” she gasped, wiping her eyes.

“Well, of course,” he said, going pink. Perhaps it was too warm in the room - Annabeth did feel a little flustered herself. He turned to Reyna. “Reyna, I don't suppose you mind if I borrow Annabeth for a few hours?” 

Reyna raised her eyebrows. “It’s not me you should be asking.”

“I'll have to get ready first,” Annabeth said, jumping up. “Reyna, could you please escort me to to my room?” 

“Of course,” Reyna said. “Lord Percy, please do tell me when you wish for her company, and I shall pass the message along.” 

“Why, yes.” Percy mock-bowed. “I shall see you soon, milady.” 

“Very soon indeed, my lord,” Annabeth said, gathering her things. 

Walking back to her room, Annabeth was silent but for the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

The Queen had returned, and only God could save her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next 2 chapters are already written so ill probably upload them soon thanks


	7. What Could Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, HRH Annabeth and Lord Jackson can spend some time together. But the day is hot, and a hot day comes before a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot twist next chapter get ready 

Annabeth spent the next half an hour pacing the floorboards in front of her window seat and chewing on a fingernail, in a very undignified manner.

Finally, a knock sounded on the door, and Annabeth rushed to open it. Reyna was standing outside in such a way that Annabeth nearly walked into her. 

“My apologies,” Reyna said, starting. “I just came to tell you that Lord Jackson has requested your company.”

“Oh, excellent!” Annabeth clapped her hands. “Where am I to meet him?”

“The stables, midday,” Reyna said, looking at her shoes.

“Thank you very much,” Annabeth said, hurrying back into her room to collect her wrap and new hat. As an afterthought, she added, “Why don't you go and lie down? You look like you could use it.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Reyna said, bobbing her head and then turning and walking off down the corridor. 

Annabeth wondered what was wrong with Reyna for a split-second, but then she was distracted by thoughts of horse-riding with Percy. It would be good to get outside for a change, she reflected. She hadn't been out since after her coronation, and she could simply die for a breath of fresh air.

The corridors of the palace were quiet, and Annabeth's footsteps were soundless on the plush carpeted floors. Portraits lined the walls: they went back for generations, from the very first king of their land. He watched her with flaking eyes as she trotted past and made her way down the stairs.

At the end, there was a blank space where Annabeth's picture would soon hang. She raised her hand to touch it, and then dropped it again.

Her father's painting was right at the end, before Annabeth's blank space. His hair flopped over his eyes, which glinted with life. Annabeth thought he was the most realistic of all the portraits - the artist had painted him with a slight tilt of the mouth, like he knew something you didn't, and he looked far less stern than the others.

Annabeth looked into his painted eyes and felt tears rise up in the back of her throat. Tearing herself away from the wall of paintings, she hurried out of the back door and into the palace grounds.

Outside, the heat was heavy and oppressive. After a few moments, Annabeth was regretting bringing her wrap. 

The ground underneath her feet was cracked and worn, and the grass dry and yellow-ish; Annabeth could see a figure in the distance pouring buckets of water over it. She meandered along a path in the shade of some trees, in no rush to get to the stables. 

One wilted leaf hung out over the path, and Annabeth plucked it so the gardener wouldn't have to. It was a dark green colour, with lighter veins shot through it. The edges curled a little, where the leaf was drying out. 

She turned it over in her hand as she walked, her skirts rustling in the breeze, and then tightened her fist, crushing it. The fragments drifted away on the wind.

Percy was waiting outside the stables. When he saw her, his whole face lit up and his eyes danced like a candle flame. “My lady,” he said, bowing.

“Please,” Annabeth laughed, and then held out her hand. He kissed it, leaving his lips there for just a moment too long, and tingles spread through Annabeth's body like a forest fire. “It is a pleasure to be in your company.”

“Will you indulge me in a short horse-ride?” Percy asked, and Annabeth laughed.

“Any time, Percy.” 

The grooms brought out Annabeth's horse, Wildfire, and a gorgeous grey mare that Annabeth had seen before, but never known who she belonged to. 

“Her name is Ocean,” Percy said proudly, “after the white horses in the surf of the sea.”

Annabeth thought that was rather cliché, but didn't mention it. “She's beautiful,” she enthused, patting the mare on the shoulder. “What's she like to ride?”

“A dream,” Percy said. “Like sitting on a cloud. You'll see.”

Annabeth climbed onto Wildfire and kicked him into a walk. “How have you been since I last saw you, Percy?” she asked. “Excluding just then in the infirmary, of course.”

“Very well, thank you,” he replied, drawing up alongside her. “A large amount of paperwork. Letters, books, legal work…” 

“I hate paperwork,” Annabeth said vehemently. 

Percy laughed a little at her violent reaction. “I have to agree there. All I want is…”

“Freedom,” Annabeth finished.

“Yes, exactly.” Percy considered it carefully. “I think everyone has their own vision of freedom, don't you?”

Annabeth thought about it. She knew what freedom meant to her, but not in a way she could voice. “What’s yours?”

“The water,” he said immediately. “Sailing, swimming, just being near it -” He sounded a little choked up. “The wind in your hair and salt on your skin and the cold of the spray, that's what freedom is.”

“I think that’s rather beautiful, Lord Jackson.”

“I think you're rather beautiful.” He stared at the pommel of the saddle, blushing a little.

Something inside Annabeth cracked a little. “Percy, that's so…”

He looked up again, blushing a lot now. “Goodness, I'm so - I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me.” He halted his horse and began to dismount. 

“Wait - Percy -” 

“I beg your pardon, Majesty, but I really have to leave -” He fumbled with Ocean’s reins, turning her around.

“Percy!” 

At her command, Percy froze, looking over his shoulder. “Annabeth?” 

“I apologize. I didn't mean to shout. But -” she dismounted her own horse - “you really don't need to go.” 

“I… are you sure?”

She took his arm. “I am not a china doll, Percy. You don't need to be so cautious around me.”

“Annabeth.” He said her name like it was a prayer, and then he stepped into her arms and tilted his head forwards and stopped just a breath, just a heartbeat away from her lips and whispered, “Do you want to do this?”

Her heart pounded in her ears. That was love, was it not? A racing heart and damp palms and - “Yes,” she whispered back, and she didn't have any longer to consider whether or not it was love because his lips were on hers and his hands were on her arms and it was - 

Surprisingly unpleasant. 

Annabeth stood there, not really sure what to do with her hands. Percy’s mouth was soft but a bit wet, and it wasn't bad exactly, just so - plain. There was nothing there: no sparks, no fire, no nothing. 

She stepped back, breaking the kiss. Percy looked into her eyes and touched her face and her hair, tender as anything. “Annabeth, I…”

“Percy?” Annabeth hugged her arms around herself.

“Will you - will you marry me?”

It was not quite what she had been expecting. “Pardon?”

Percy looked terrified, but didn't lose his nerve. “Will you marry me?”

Annabeth had always done what her head told her, and her head said yes. Her head said that her mother would approve and the nation would approve and they would learn to be happy and have lots of lovely children. 

This time, however, words failed her. She tried to do what her head said, really she did, but her heart was crying out in aversion and she just - she couldn't.

“I can't,” she said. Percy’s face fell, all the hope crushed on the floor between them. “I can't,” she repeated, a bit louder, more certain. 

Percy took two steps backwards. “I'm sorry,” he said. 

“Don't be.” 

Annabeth went to move towards him, but he turned and walked off unsteadily. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

“Percy? But - your horse -”

“I'll call a groom.” With that, he was gone.

Annabeth watched his figure retreat into the distance. Her heart thumped so hard it hurt. “I did the right thing,” she said out loud. “I did the right thing! I did the right thing I did I did I did!”

She made her way back to the palace, but the whole way, her blood was beating in a rhythm of regret. Had she done the right thing? Yes, she had. She had!

Still, tears wet her cheeks, and every breath wondered what could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have 1 more chapter written & after that i think there's going 2 be 2 more fingers crossed


	8. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat has broken, and the storm outside nearly matches the one inside Annabeth. And that's before the bad news arrives: all of a sudden, her world is thrown sideways. She never knew being a queen would be this hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: character death HA HA anyway i feel like this chapter is written slightly better than previous ones ?? who knows

Annabeth had almost worn a dent into her window-seat, she'd sat there so much. Leaning her head against the cold glass, she arranged her skirts around her and peered out.

Rain streaked the glass, marking trails into the dusty panes. The heat had finally broken, and a storm had arrived that had been growling and growing overhead all night. 

Now it was here, and the sky was darkening slowly, more with storm than with night. Occasionally, a strike of lightning would illuminate the sky, but Annabeth barely noticed it.

Her thoughts turned to Percy, and what had happened last night. She couldn't get her mind out of the hushed gardens, where he'd touched her cheek and her hair, and she hadn't rejected his advances one bit, and then she'd told him she didn't want to marry him and he'd gone God knows where, and it was all her fault! 

Annabeth pressed her forehead against the window pane, shutting her eyes. Even with them closed, she saw the way Percy's face had crumpled and his shoulders sagged.

Stop this, Annabeth. You're a queen. You don't feel guilty.

A knock sounded on the door, and Annabeth started, pulling her skirts around her. “Please, enter,” she called, getting to her feet.

The door opened and Reyna stepped inside, not meeting Annabeth's eyes. “Reyna!” Annabeth cried. “Thank goodness. I was looking for you last night - something awful’s happened!”

Reyna said nothing, still staring at the floor. Blindly, Annabeth continued. “Percy tried to kiss me, and I let him! But then he proposed, and I said no, and now he's gone and I can't find him anywhere. I have to apologize. Have you seen him?”

“He is - was - the reason I came,” Reyna began unsteadily.

“I… what do you mean?” Annabeth stared at her blankly.

“Annabeth, when Percy left, he took a carriage. We think he was going to his family home by the sea.”

“But… but it was stormy.”

“Exactly.” Reyna finally looked up, meeting Annabeth's eyes. “The storm caused a problem with the carriage. It skidded off the road, and crashed. By the time a party arrived, it was… it was too late.”

Annabeth kept staring at her incomprehensibly. “But Percy isn't hurt, is he?”

“There were no survivors. I am so sorry, Annabeth, but Percy's gone.”

“No,” Annabeth whispered, staggering back. “No, he's not! He's not! You're lying to me! Stop lying!” Somebody was screaming, a horrible shrill shriek that went on and on until Annabeth covered her ears.

Then she realised it was her, she was making the screaming noise, but she couldn't stop because Percy was gone, he was actually gone, and he had been her best friend and her only oasis in the worst months of her life and now he was gone and what was she going to do now?

Reyna slapped her.

Annabeth clutched her cheek, hot pain lancing through her skin, but it worked. The screaming stopped and Annabeth collapsed backwards, breathing hard. “It's true, isn't it?” 

“I'm so sorry.” 

Annabeth looked back out of the window. It was hard to believe that only a few minutes ago, she'd been worrying about something as trivial as a kiss and a proposal, and now her best friend was dead. 

“Leave me alone, please. I won't be doing anything today.” Annabeth rolled onto her side, facing towards the wall. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Annabeth was silent until she heard the door open and close again, and then she rolled onto her back with a sigh.

“Oh, Father. What am I to do now?”

“What any good monarch would do,” said her father matter-of-factly, materialising at the side of the room. 

“And what's that?”

“Keep going. Put it behind you. You can't drop everything and hide away because one boy has died. Your job is more important than your personal life. The people are more important than your personal life.”

Annabeth was quiet for a while. Then, “Father?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“Will Percy come back as a ghost, like you?” 

“I doubt it,” her father said heavily. “I'm only here to look after you. You always were my favourite child.”

“I'm your only child, father,” Annabeth chuckled. 

Her father floated across the room until he stood by her bed. “I suppose you're right,” he said fondly, reaching out a hand to push a lock of hair back from her sweaty forehead, but his fingers went right through her and made her shiver. “You always were the brightest one of the family.”

“Papa, please, don't go.” Annabeth reached out, trying to touch his hand. “Stay with me for a little while more. Tell me a story.”

Her father sat down on the chair next to her bed. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She had wild blonde curls and big blue eyes. The little girl lived with her mother and her father, who loved her very much.

“One day, her father picked her up so she could see out of the window. 'See those mountains over there?’ he said. 'If you can climb over there, you'll find a forest made of gold and a lake made of glass. One leaf from a golden tree will make you happy forever.’

“'Forever?’ the girl asked, her eyes wide. 

“'And ever,’ her father said, setting her back down. 'But nobody has ever made it over the mountains, because there's a huge dragon that lives in a cave underground. And if you come too close, it will gobble you up!’

“The little girl laughed, but that night, she couldn't stop thinking about the forest made of gold and the lake made of glass and the leaf that would make you happy forever. So she climbed out of bed, and she put on her strongest shoes and her warmest coat, and then she climbed out of the window and ran all the way to the mountains.

“When she got there, she swallowed back her fear and planted a foot onto the first rock of the path up to the top. 'Come out, dragon!’ she called, for she would much rather deal with the dragon now than later.

“The ground rumbled, and it wobbled, and finally, a massive hole broke open in the earth in front of the girl. Out of the hole came the dragon’s ears, and then the dragon's eyes, and then its big, gaping mouth. It stopped and stared at the little girl.

“'What do you want?’ it grumbled, for she had woken it up in the middle of the night.

“'I want to get past and find the forest made of gold and the lake made of glass and the leaf that would make you happy forever!’ she cried, and her voice didn't even waver, because she was fearless and she knew it.

“'Hah!’ said the dragon, and it drew back, ready to pounce and gobble the little girl up! But she had come prepared. From behind her back, she produced the ball that she used to play with her pet dog.

“'Fetch!’ she cried, throwing the ball as hard as she could to the side of the mountain. It sailed away, landing in a tree several miles away, at least. The dragon growled, and then turned and raced away towards the ball. 

“Smiling, the little girl ran onwards, all the way up to the top of the mountain. Huffing and puffing, she finally reached the peak. When she got there, she closed her eyes, and…”

As a child, her father would always make Annabeth close her eyes, and she did so now. Then she always used to beg him to continue, but he would tell her it was a story for another night.

After several moments of silence, she opened her eyes. “Papa?”

But all that remained was a cold, stirring breeze. It wound round Annabeth's head, kissed her on the forehead, and then slipped back out of the window. Her father had gone again.

Annabeth turned over onto her side and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end of the clump i have written but except at least two more chapters before it finishes lmao

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment or kudos it would make me very happy thanks


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